


From Race to Rest

by MonkeyBard



Series: Capture the Cauldron [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 05:17:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeyBard/pseuds/MonkeyBard
Summary: The trio race to safety and John gets a few more answers.





	From Race to Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Date: 31 July 2019  
JWP #31: Recycling Is A Good Thing: New to JWP and curious to know what prompts happened in earlier years? An old-timer and regretting a past prompt you really wanted to do and ran out of time? Today’s your lucky day! Find a prompt from this year or a previous JWP and recycle that gem! (Tip: search for the tag mod post: jwp to find them without having to comb through years of previous July posts by hand.)  
A/N: Chosen from 3 July 2018: When Shall We Three Meet Again? Have three characters - and ONLY three - appear in your work today.  
A/N2: This prompt was kind of a gimme when I spotted it. I mean, most of this story has been only three characters. But at the end of the month, we all deserve an easy serve, IMO.

John wasn’t aware of Creirwy joining him in his mad dash away from the cottage in the valley. He only knew that at some point, she had. He was grateful for the dog’s presence; he wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, or even if he was headed in the right direction. He cued into her as they ran, following any directional lead she might indicate.  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he ran so far or so long. Working with Sherlock, any running was generally to be found in mad dashes and brief sprints. His legs ached with each stride and his lungs heaved every breath.  
  
A shrieking cry overhead caused him to duck instinctively before he realised it was Winnie in her hawk form caught up with them. Man and dog alike glanced up and took their lead from her as she headed inland.  
  
There, at last, was their destination. John hadn’t taken time to look at the exterior of Winnie’s cottage when he and Creirwy had first left it and he took in what he could as he raced towards it now. It was whitewashed stone with a slate roof and a garden of herbs and flowers ringing what he could see from this side. And there in the wall towards which they ran was the door. Trusting that any wards would let him in as they must have previously, John threw open the door and darted inside. Creirwy was hard at his heels and he’d barely come to a stop when Winnie flew through the portal and landed as her human-formed self. The door shut behind them with a deliberate and satisfying thud.  
  
John didn’t wait to fully catch his breath before asking, “Are we safe?”  
  
“Yes,” confirmed Winnie.  
  
“Whew!” John let the cauldron slide from his grasp to the floor, landing on its three short legs. He unwound his jacket from around the metal handle and shook it out to look at it. As he’d suspected it would, the noxious substance within the cauldron had splashed on the material, staining and stinking it. “I don’t suppose…you have a dry cleaner in…this realm?” he joked.  
  
The corgi barked what sounded a lot like a laugh and Winnie smiled wryly. “No, but I’ll make sure it’s good as new before you go. It’s the least I can do for the help you’ve given me.”  
  
“Thanks.” He let the jacket drop next to the cauldron and bent over, hands on his knees, his breathing beginning to slow towards normal. “So Morfran won’t come for…the cauldron again?”  
  
“Oh, he’ll try again eventually, but it won’t be anytime soon.”  
  
John gestured to the rocking chair near the hearth, the only chair in the cottage. “May I?”  
  
“Sit.”  
  
“Thanks.” He collapsed wearily into it and found the wooden rocker luxuriously comfortable after his exertions. The corgi immediately begged to sit on his lap. He reached down and helped her up. She settled in and as he petted her, she soon drifted into sweet doggie snoozes.  
  
“She is extraordinarily fond of you,” said Winnie.  
  
“I’m flattered. I’m fond of her too. She’s a great dog.”  
  
In the moments of quiet that followed, questions John hadn’t had time to ask earlier came to the forefront of his mind. Where to begin?  
  
“You have questions again,” said Winnie.  
  
“Yeah. A few. You want to ask them for me like before?”  
  
“If you like.”  
  
He shook his head. “That’s okay. I think I can manage this time.” He dove in. “There are wards here, right? Like at Morfran’s cottage?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“So, how did he get in here to steal anything at all?”  
  
“He came through my shop front, just like you did. Remember the mess he made?”  
  
“Oh yeah.” In all the excitement, he’d forgotten. “But don’t you have protections there, too?”  
  
“Of course, but it’s different in your world. Humans are less black and white than the fey. Sometimes someone on that spectrum of grey who you might think leans towards evil needs my help. Unfortunately, Morfran got clever and slipped in from that side.” Winnie sighed, shaking her head at herself. “I never thought he’d go so far. He’s always hated entering the mortal world. I guess that goes to show how determined he was.”  
  
John yawned, nodding thoughtfully. “’Scuse me. But you can guard against that now that you know, yeah?”  
  
“It’ll take some doing, but I’ll find a way. Now, John.” Winnie’s tone changed abruptly. “Would you like a bit of a kip as well, or are you eager to get home to your Sherlock?”  
  
John rocked gently back and forth, hands softly stroking Creirwy’s fur. “I’d like to just sit here for a little while, if that’s all right. Wind down a bit before I go home.”  
  
Winnie smiled. “Of course. It will give me time to dispel this sludge my son cooked up and get your jacket tidied up, too.”  
  
“Great.” John yawned again and before Winnie had done more than retrieve the cauldron from where he’d let it land, he was asleep.


End file.
